Her Best Chance of Happiness
by Mosteyn
Summary: Last minute Secret Santa for Cassiemortmain ! Apologies for the delay... Some scenes of from Ireland before the wedding, plus a scene seven years later when Sybil finds out that her father tried to bribe Tom.


**A/N: So this is my rather belated secret santa fic for cassiemortmain ! The prompt asked for some scenes of Tom and Sybil as engaged couple, with a possibility of Sybil finding out about Robert trying to pay Tom off. So here it is - not sure it quite what you had in mind, as I've slipped in a section set in 1926, but hopefully you like it !**

 **In this world Edith has Marigold and marries Bertie, Tom and Sybil settle back at Downton after Drumgoole and of course Mary never marries Henry Talbot because Matthew can drive :-)**

* * *

She looks like a doll.

That was Eileen Branson's first, unbidden thought when she opened the door to her son and his fiancee, the Earl's daughter from England. There she stood on the threshold of her small terraced house - all wide blue eyes, dark hair piled up under a neat hat, porcelain skin…..a narrow waisted china doll, whose plump lips parted in a small, polite smile. It didn't go unnoticed that she was hanging on to Tommy's hand for dear life.

"Mam - this is Sybil."

The doll sprang to life and extended her hand.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs Branson. And thank you so much for letting me stay."

Eileen look at the outstretched hand, conscious that her son was watching her every move with a tight, nervous smile. The strength of the hope in his eyes pierced her to the heart. She knew her son - this was no fleeting foolishness of his, no rash decision rashly acted upon. This was his new life and he wanted it to get off to a good start.

She took the proffered hand.

She was immediately surprised by the firmness and strength of the grip. She might be a lady, but this young woman's hands had not been idle, she could feel that. A nurse, Tommy had said. She's a nurse and she wants to go on being a nurse. A young woman with purpose and determination, then. Lady Sybil might yet turn out to be many things, but pampered wasn't one of them.

"You are welcome," she said. "Now I expect you'll both be wanting a cup of tea after that journey."

It had been a very polite evening. She and Tom had sat on his mother's sofa and drank their tea, then his mother had shown her up to the small room she would be occupying for her stay. It was clean and a little spartan, with a small, singe bed, a wardrobe and a chest of draws with a small mirror on the top. The floor was bare apart from a rag rug by the bed. It reminded Sybil of the room she had shared in York. It made her smile.

Tom brought her case up for her and put in on the bed.

"Right. The bathroom is just down the hall. That window sticks a bit, but it will open if you want a bit of fresh air." He wandered over and pulled the curtain back a little and stared out over the surrounding rooftops. Sybil came and joined him.

"Was this your sister's room ?"

He looked down and smiled at her.

"Yes. Mam and Cait moved here after my Dad died."

"It's nice," she said, looking back into the room again.

"A bit different to what you're used to."

"Yes - and I'm glad of that." She turned back to the window, noticing the spire of a small church a few streets away. "Is that St Benedict's ?" she asked, "where we'll get married ?"

He nodded.

"It is. We'll go and see Father O'Briain tomorrow evening and set a date."

Sybil grinned.

"You're very keen."

His arm wove around her waist and pulled her to him, grinning back at her.

"I've just got my priorities right."

She nestled herself into his side, taking in the view of the local neighbourhood - rows of terraced houses, each with their own small patch of garden out the back with washing lines, coal bunkers and even the odd shed. Seagulls floated in the evening sky, their harsh cries echoing above the rooftops. A small wrinkle appeared between her brows.

"Shouldn't we to find somewhere to live first ? And I need to get a job, Tom, otherwise we won't be able to afford….."

"No." He turned to look down at her. "I'm done with waiting, Sybil. I want to marry you as soon as I can."

His eyes glowed a dark, iridescent blue in the twilight of the room. Suddenly she felt as if she couldn't breathe. He bent his head to kiss her. But there was a cough from the doorway.

"Shouldn't you be getting to your sister's ?"

He let go of her as if she had been made of burning coal. A short, silent stand-off followed over the length of the small room. Sybil couldn't help thinking that he looked like a mutinous schoolboy, caught with his hand in the biscuit jar. He may be a fully grown man about to be married, but he was still Mrs Branson's son. This was Mrs Branson's house. And he knew it.

"Yes, Mam, " he sighed. "I suppose I should."

She followed mother and son downstairs to the front door, where Tom picked up his cap and his own suitcase.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning. For breakfast," he said, smiling at Sybil and making no effort to move.

"Tommy, your sister won't thank you for keeping her out of bed ! Sybil will still be here tomorrow morning," his mother said as she herded him towards the door. "Now away with you !"

"Goodnight, love." He dodged past his mother and dropped a kiss on Sybil's cheek. "Alright, alright, Mam ! I'm going ! I'll see you in the morning…"

Mrs Branson hustled him out of the door and closed it firmly behind him. All of a sudden, Sybil felt quite alone.

"So, Sybil. Have you got everything you need ? "

"Yes, thank you." She smiled. "I think I shall be very comfortable here."

Mrs Branson raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm sure its nothing like what you're used to, but its ….."

"It's fine, everything's fine."

There was another awkward silence. The girl looks done in, Eileen thought. An unexpected wave of pity hit her. This was no silly girl acting out some romantic notion. Whilst she may not be fully aware of what she had got herself into, Sybil seemed to have no illusions about what her life would be like and she seemed to be prepared to take the consequences. She was shaping up to be so different from what she had imagined that Eileen began to feel a grudging respect for her.

"Why don't you go on up and get to bed. I'm sure you must be tired."

She was rewarded with a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

Eileen watched her walk up the stairs with a straight back. No doubt her governess had perfected her posture over years of practice. Wherever she went, Sybil would always hold her head high.

* * *

She had a short, mild panic when she woke the next morning, temporarily disorientated as to where she was. The pale light was falling onto the floorboards underneath the curtains, illuminating a strip in the dimness of the small room. Everything was different; even the air felt different. But then she was different. She was no longer Lady Sybil. Here, she was just plain Sybil Crawley, soon to be Branson. She smiled as she stretched in the bed, pushing her toes down under the blankets, then suddenly scrabbling for her watch. She had no idea what time it was and didn't want to give her future mother-in-law the impression that she was the sort of woman who lounged around in bed waiting to be brought a cup of tea. She dressed quickly in her most serviceable skirt and blouse, twisting and pinning up her hair into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. _I must get it cut. But not until after the wedding...night._ Tom had extracted that promise from her. Not until after we're married, he'd pleaded - but she'd understood what he meant. Her cheeks flamed at the thought of it, but she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and ran down the stairs.

Eileen was already in the kitchen, nursing the stove into life.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," Eileen nodded. Sybil looked around the kitchen hesitantly. This was Eileen's domain and she didn't want to intrude, but equally she didn't want to appear useless.

"Can I do anything ?"

"Do you know how to light a stove ?" Eileen was clearly expecting the answer No.

"I can set fires," Sybil said. "I learnt how to do that in the hospital. But I've never had to light a stove. The copper was always going already when I was on duty."

"You'll know how to do laundry, then ?"

"Oh yes. And I can iron. I quite like ironing, actually," Sybil smiled.

"Really ?" Eileen sounded sceptical. She poked the stove, coaxing it into life. "This thing needs more coal," she muttered, wiping her hands on her apron and picking up the near-empty coal scuttle.

"Let me."

Sybil moved to take the scuttle from her and opened the door into the back yard, where she knew the coal store was. Eileen watched her as she opened it and filled up the scuttle, bringing it back almost full. Not afraid of getting her hands dirty, then.

They were saved from further conversation by a knock at the door. Tom was early, pacing restlessly outside the front door as his mother opened it.

"Morning, Mam." He kissed her briefly on her cheek as he came in, looking for Sybil. His face almost split in two when he saw her. The embraced in the kitchen, quite unashamedly, and he kissed the top of her head, whispering a greeting clearly not meant for his mother's ears. He kept his arm tightly around her waist as Eileen followed him back in and started making breakfast. Indeed, she noticed that the pair never went very long without touching - whether it was a stolen kiss on a cheek, the briefest squeeze of a hand or even just their forearms pressed against one another's as they sat at the table.

"What are you planning on doing today ?" she asked of them over a hearty breakfast of eggs and bacon.

"Showing Sybil Dublin. The parts she wouldn't have seen before," he said. "We'll find the hospitals. Then we'll start looking for a flat."

"And what are you going to be paying for that with ? That newspaper job you've found isn't going to pay for very much."

"Mam…."

"I have three appointments at hospitals next week - about a job as a nurse," said Sybil. "We know we won't have much," she continued, looking at Tom, "but we'll be alright if we're careful."

Eileen wondered what Sybil knew about being careful with money. At least she'd done something about getting a job.

"I can always do a bit of extra work at a garage if I need to…."

"And there's always my allowance…."

"I'm not spending that money," said Tom fiercely.

"If that money lets you write, then yes, we are spending that money," replied Sybil, equally fiercely.

They stared at each other across the kitchen table. Eileen could feel the air crackle between them. It would seem her stubborn son had met his match.

Sybil insisted on clearing up after breakfast. Eileen watched as she rolled up her sleeves and washed up whilst Tom dried. She moved quietly around them, ostensibly getting ready to go out shopping. There was an easiness between the pair of them, a comfort in each each other's company that seemed inexplicable given their different positions in life. He even let Sybil tease him, gently ribbing him when he became too serious. She seemed to have smoothed out some of the unfinished edges on her earnest, polemical son. Eileen really didn't know what to make of this young woman her son had brought home. She might have the usual naivety of youth, but she wasn't foolish. In fact she appeared to be exactly the sort of woman she'd imagined Tommy would bring home one day - warm, intelligent and hard working. She just came from a very different world.

* * *

The next weeks seemed to fly by for Sybil. Her enthusiasm for her new life grew with each new discovery and small accomplishment. After two disappointments, the third hospital took her on a month's trial and found her nursing acceptable. They even offered her further training. They found somewhere to live in a lively, interesting part of town that they could just about afford. She met her future sister-in-law and her family and Tom's new work colleagues. The date was set for the wedding. She bought an inexpensive, ready-made dress. But the best thing was that she could see Tom every day, and some days, she could see him all day. They could go out together, or stay in together. They ate together, danced together, took walks together, laughed, fought, made up and became even closer than she could have imagined. It almost scared her.

Then the letter came saying that her parents would not be coming.

Eileen watched her fold the letter up and put it back in the envelope.

"Apparently Mama is too unwell to travel and Papa does not want to leave her." she said bitterly. "Well," she said, pulling herself up to her full height, "if they don't want to come that is their business."

But Eileen could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. She had suspected this would happen, but Sybil had been optimistic that her parents would come. This was a cruel blow.

"What about your sisters ?"

"They'll come.' She sniffed. "I'm _so_ disappointed in Papa !" she burst out. "He gave us his blessing ! And now…."

Eileen put her knitting down and came and sat next to Sybil on the sofa.

"He's being so unfair to Tom !"

"Your father has his reasons," Eileen said, patting her knee.

She didn't really blame the Granthams. It can't have been the wedding they imaged for their daughter. It wasn't going to be the wedding she'd imagined for her son, either, but she was a pragmatic woman and knew she would lose him if she crossed him over his choice of bride. The Earl of Grantham couldn't really be seen to be approving of this marriage to his former chauffeur, however much he loved his daughter. She suspected Sybil knew this, and she already knew enough of her sweet nature to know that whatever she said, she would never give up on her parents. And if Sybil didn't, neither would Tom.

In the end Eileen thought the wedding was lovely. Sybil was not at all nervous and seemed determined to not let her parents' absence spoil her big day. She made a radiant bride and she didn't think she'd ever seen her son look so happy. He simply didn't take his eyes off her from the minute he saw her in the church. Sybil's sisters were gracious if not exactly friendly, and they clearly loved their sister. Because after all, who couldn't love Sybil ? Even Eileen had to admit Tommy had fallen for a lovely girl. But in the harsh reality of life in a country on the edge of war, was that going to be enough ? She couldn't help but be a little afraid for them.

"They think they can live on thin air, those two" she fretted as she and Tom's sister Cait waved the newly-weds off to their new flat.

"Mam…."

"And what about when children come ? I'll wager she doesn't know one end of a baby from the other !"

"Mam, Sybil's a nurse…."

"Living in that cramped little flat..… "

"MAM ! For goodness sake, give them a chance ! They'll manage, like everyone else does. They're not afraid of hard work. She loves him and he clearly loves her. They're well suited. So what if she comes from a posh family ? She can't help that."

"I suppose not," grumbled Eileen.

"Anyway - she's not a grand lady any more. She's plain Mrs Branson, just like you."

Eileen looked up at her daughter sharply. Cait was grinning at her.

"You like her," she teased. "It's no good pretending you don't. I know you do. We all like her. She's a lovely girl."

Eileen fussed with the edges of her new coat, bought especially for the wedding.

"I dare say I've got to be quite fond of her,"

Cait relented and gave her mother a gentle smile.

"Of course you're fond of her, Mam. She's family."

* * *

 **Christmas 1926**

"It's so wonderful to have you all here for Christmas," smiled Cora as she looked around the library. "The whole family together !"

"Mama, the whole family was here last Christmas for Edith's wedding !"

Mary rolled her eyes extravagantly, only partially teasing her mother. She was surprised that Edith and Bertie said they wanted to spend Christmas at Downton, seeing as it was strictly speaking their first Christmas together. Edith had said it was because she wanted Marigold to spend it with her cousins rather than on her own, but Mary wondered if it wasn't more to do with Edith's pregnancy. She had carried her first child without the love and support of her mother; this time, she was taking pleasure in being a little cosseted by her Mama. Not that she needed any more cosseting, Mary thought, not with Bertie hovering at her elbow, anticipating her every need.

Cora refused to be deflated.

"Well, yes, but we have new additions to the family since then ! Two beautiful new grandsons….."

"Both of whom are too young to realise what is going on,"

"Oh Mary, let Mama have her moment," chided Sybil gently. "You know how she loves to have all the children together, especially now Edith and Marigold are so far away and we've moved."

"You've only moved to Crawley House, darling - it's hardly the other side of the world,"

"It still means Mama and Papa don't get to see Sybbie and Michael as often as they did - especially now Sybbie's at school."

"Even so, you'd think Mama hadn't seen them for _months_ instead of every week. And Papa," Mary said, nodding at where Robert had picked up Sybbie (who at six years old was really too big for that) and was showing her his new painting of his labrador, a gift from Cora. Sybbie had flung her arms round her grandfather's neck as they stood, grey head and sleek, black one together, as thick as thieves.

"They were quite upset that you're sending her to the village school rather than sharing George's tutor. Darling, are you sure she'll be better off there ? Mr Pendennis is very good. George's writing has improved no end."

Sybil sighed.

"It was very kind of you all to offer, but Sybbie lives in the village now, and it makes sense for her to have friends there. After all, she's the daughter of an estate agent and a nurse, whoever she might be related to. Anyway, George will go away to school in a few years and I don't want Sybbie to have a governess. I want her to actually learn something," she muttered.

"She's a bright little girl,"

"She takes after her father." Sybil let her gaze wander to Tom, who had come up to join Sybbie and Robert in admiring the painting.

" _And_ her mother," added Mary loyally.

Sybil shook her head, smiling.

"Oh, I'll admit I'm no slouch, but Tom's the clever one. Even Papa admits that now."

"Well, Papa has good reason to. The estate wouldn't be in nearly such good shape if Tom hadn't been around to help Matthew push the new ideas through. He's going to miss him when he takes his seat on the Council."

"I am," said Matthew, appearing behind her with his glass. "Don't get me wrong - I'm very pleased for him, and it will be handy having someone from the estate in local government, but he leaves big boots to fill. I don't know what we'd have done without him."

"Fallen out, I suspect," said Mary. Matthew grinned over his whisky.

"Probably. I suspect Robert is eternally grateful that Tom refused to be bought off before you married."

He sank into his chair, relaxed and content, but Mary's eyes widened and her smile became fixed and unreadable. Sybil looked from one to the other, puzzled.

"What do mean ?"

"When does Tom take up his seat ?"

"Don't change the subject, Mary. What do you mean, "refused to be bought off". Bought off by whom ?"

Matthew shifted nervously to the edge of his seat. Lulled by the warmth of the family atmosphere, he had completely forgotten that Mary had made him swear never to repeat the story she had just told him to Sybil, or anyone else in the family.

"Sybil - "

But Sybil was beginning to work it out.

"Papa."

"Darling, it was such a long time ago, and I'm sure he regrets it now. He loves Tom !"

She felt numb inside. "When ?"

"Tom's never spoken to you of this ? "

"No. Tom," she said, unconsciously straightening her back and sitting taller, "has a sense of honour.`'

Matthew and Mary looked at each other, unaccountably feeling somewhat chastened. Mary swallowed.

"Papa went to see Tom at the Grantham Arms, when Mama was ill. He offered to write him a cheque if he would return to Ireland without you. By all accounts Tom was very offended and refused. He said he thought your happiness would be best served by being with him."

Sybil felt a rush of love for her husband that was so strong it made her gasp.

"Well he was right about that," she said.

"Yes - he was," said Matthew. "And Robert knows that. Tom is part of this family now and Robert wouldn't have it any other way."

"Sybil, darling, let it go - surely it doesn't matter now ?"

As she watched her father and her husband talk over her daughter's head, Sybil thought how simple it would be to see her father's easy smile as acceptance of his son-in-law. And Mary and Matthew were right - he _had_ accepted Tom, liked and even respected him for his work on the estate. They still differed widely on politics and Robert had rather ungraciously feigned disappointment when Tom was elected to the county council in a labour seat. But Robert had good cause to admire Tom's drive and work ethic, and was unstinting in giving praise where it was due. But did Papa truly love Tom as he loved Matthew ? Bertie of course was a Marquis and so amenable it was impossible to dislike him, and he and Papa were already on easy terms. Sybil also suspected that her father felt something like gratitude to Bertie for making Edith so happy - something that rather annoyed Sybil on Edith's behalf. To her surprise, she felt her eyes start to prick. Tom had worked so hard, accepted the consequences of his actions, had put his own dreams aside and done so much for this family, yet still her father couldn't quite bring himself to treat him like an equal. It was there in the way Tom stood by her father's side, hands clasped respectfully behind his back. And in the way he still called Robert Lord Grantham. Suddenly this seemed quite outrageous to Sybil in the light of what she'd just been told. Tom was just as noble and honourable as Papa, Matthew or Bertie and it was about time Papa acknowledged that.

"Sybil ?"

But Sybil had already left her seat and walked purposely over to Tom and her father. Matthew looked at Mary in alarm.

"Mummy ! Look at Donk's picture !"

"It's lovely, darling ! Now would you do Mummy a favour and go and talk to Granny as I want to talk to Daddy and Donk."

Robert looked puzzled, but let Sybbie slide down and skip off to Cora. Sybil watched her go."

"Are you alright, Sybil ? What is it ?'

"I want to talk to you both. Can we go in the small library ?"

Cora looked over at them disappearing into a corner as she pulled Sybbie onto her lap.

"What's going on ?" she asked Mary.

"I'm not sure," she said. "I think we could be in for fireworks."

* * *

Tom was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Something had upset Sybil and he was busy running back over the last few days to see whether there was something he had done that might have put her out of sorts. But in that case, why was she bring her father in on it as well ?

Robert was equally mystified.

"What is it, Sybil ? What's the great mystery ?"

Now she was here, Sybil was not quite sure how to begin, and wondered briefly whether Mary and Matthew weren't right. But one look at Tom made her realise it was time.

"Papa - did you try and bribe Tom not to marry me ?"

Robert almost took a step back as if someone had thrown a punch at him. He blinked, then looked across at Mary and Cora, then at Tom, and, with a sigh, finally back at Sybil.

"I wondered if you'd ever find out about that. Who told you ?"

"Mary."

Robert shook his head in defeat.

"It's not something I am proud of. It was inexcusable of me. And for the record, I am very pleased that Tom was the better man that day. I don't know what we would have done without him. He's an asset to the family."

"He's more than an asset, Papa - he's _part_ of this family."

"Of course he is - if he want to be, that is," said Robert, casting a sideways glance at Tom. Tom blushed. "Either way, Tom - I owe you an apology for my behaviour that day."

"Lord Grantham…."

Robert shook his head. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered Sybil telling him that despite all appearances to the contrary, the boy desperately wanted his approval. Well - he was a hard worker and good husband, a clever man. A good man. A man, he realised, that he was proud of.

"I suppose what Sybil is telling me is that it is time you stopped calling me that." He turned back to his daughter. "We may have started off on the wrong foot, but I've grown to love Tom. He was right. You couldn't have married a better man - even if he is a socialist."

"Oh Papa !" Sybil flung her arms around her father and squeezed him hard.

"What do you say, Tom ? Call me Robert from now on, if you wish." He extended his hand. Tom took it with a wide grin.

"Thank you, Lord…..Robert."

"Is this some form of Christmas miracle ?" asked Cora, coming over to join them.

"You might say that, Lady Grantham," said Tom rather cheekily. Robert gave him a look and then broke into a wide grin.

"Call her Cora, Tom."

"No." Cora gave Robert a stern look. "Tom's family. He will call me Mama."

Sybil couldn't help giggling.

"But you'll call _me_ Robert," he said anxiously.

"Of course."

"Come on - let's join the rest of the family. The children want to play games !"

"Do we have to ?" said Robert with a pained expression.

"Come along, Donk," said Cora, leading him away. "You know you love musical chairs."

"Please don't call me that,"

Sybil weaved herself under Tom's arms and watched them go. She felt him drop a kiss on the top of her head and look up.

"Thank you," he said. "I hate to admit it, but it means a lot to know he approves of me."

"It was long overdue. I've known Papa has loved you for years - but he needed to _say_ it."

"And I've come to love him - to love them. All of them."

"Even Granny ?"

"Even your grandmother," he said with a laugh.

"Well, you're stuck with them. You're now as much a Crawley as I am a Branson."

That made him laugh out loud.

"Good God. My father would be spinning in his grave at the thought of it."

Arm in arm, they wandered back to the rest of the family.

"You were right."

"Hmmm ? About what, love ?"

"My best chance of happiness _was_ with you. I love my family, but it's being with you and our children that makes me happy."

He stopped, seeming a little taken aback at such a forthright confession. But then he took her hand and raised her palm to his lips, planting a soft kiss in the middle of it.

"I could never be happy without you," he whispered into her hand. "I love you, Sybil. I always will."

"Always ?"

"Always."


End file.
